


Bits and Pieces

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Continuity What Continuity, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Multiple Pairings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life, Sporadic Updates, Tumblr Prompt, lots of AUs, more pairings to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 11,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a dumping ground for ficlets I've posted to tumblr or have abandoned. Most are based on prompts. Multiple pairings, lengths, settings, etc.</p><p>Chapter 26: SouHaru Mercenary/Special OPS AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MakoRin: Sleepy Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> For anonymous on tumblr, who requested MakoRin and sleepy kisses.

There’s a click of a door closing.

Makoto opens his eyes and tries to adjust them to his surroundings. The ocean and endless blue sky he’d been drifting on in his dream is now the bedroom ceiling. Bright lights from the billboards and Tokyo skyline outside cut in through the curtains, splayed out over the bedsheets like pillars of soft blue and white. The digital clock on the nightstand shines a bright green 3:12 am.

 _Their_ nightstand.

His memory returning from that, Makoto blinks and looks over to the bedroom threshold where a familiar figure is stopped in that awkward halfway point between taking a step and stopping in place like a child caught sneaking off past curfew. He’s wearing his team’s white and red tracksuit—in the middle of the dark, it glows like a beacon—and his bag’s still slung over his shoulder.

“Rin?”

“Sorry,” Rin whispers, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” A pause. “Yet.”

Makoto raises himself on his elbows, the effort nearly too much for his bones. “I thought the team was due back in the afternoon?”

“They are,” Rin says as he moves closer to the edge of the bed—their bed—and unapologetically hops onto it, straddling Makoto’s thighs. “But Coach let me take the red-eye back so I can surprise you.”

Makoto flops onto his back, his head on the stack of pillows beneath him, mouth twisted into a sleepy grin. “Mm. Mission accomplished, then.”

“I’ll say,” Rin quips as he leans in. The sharp points of his teeth gleaming are the last things Makoto can see before he’s being swept up into a kiss so powerful, he barely has the energy to respond in kind. But trying is always the best part.

When they pull away from each other, and when Rin bumps their foreheads together as he catches his breath, Makoto whispers, “I saw you, you know. I wish I could have been there.”

His hands graze around Rin’s chest, lazily sneaking into the folds of his jacket and the shirt beneath it before he feels them. Solid and heavy and shining like ochres in the center of his palm.

A dust of color makes its way over Rin’s nose, visible even in the unlit room, and he shifts and looks down at the medals as if to hide his blush.

“You were,” he murmurs. “You always are.”


	2. SouMako: Wrong Wedding Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [isthistakenalready](isthistakenalready.tumblr.com) @ tumblr who requested—
> 
> SouMako, crashing the wrong wedding.

Putting on the nicest suit in the closet and calmly walking in through the banquet hall doors is the easiest way to crash a wedding. Sousuke isn’t proud of it but as a starving grad student without many options on the socialization front in an expensive city, it’s the easiest way for him to snag free food and drinks and, if he’s particularly lucky, someone to warm his bed that night.

This weekend’s nuptuals are for Kenichi and Maaya. Sousuke doesn’t know them—he just heard of their wedding from the announcement in the newspaper and decided it’s good enough to crash. As he always does once he’s in the hotel, he smoothly heads to the buffet and open bar without anyone suspecting a thing.

Anyone, that is, except for the tall guy that keeps eyeballing him from over by the cake.

Sousuke pretends to not notice him at first, hoping he’d get bored and move on to the next unsuspecting bachelor, but after several minutes of heavy stares and missed eye contact, he decides enough’s enough. He stares him down, head-on.

But rather than leave with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs, not only does the other man return his gaze directly, he’s walking over to him.

Up close, Sousuke has a better look of the man. He’s handsome and fills out his clothes rather well, hinting at muscle beneath his tailored suit. Judging from the cut of it and the sapphire and amethyst pin on the lapel, he’s probably one of the groomsmen, maybe even the Best Man.

_Nice friends, Kenichi. Whoever you are._

“Hi there,” he says with a kind, almost musical lilt in his voice.

“Mm, hello,” Sousuke murmurs before tipping back half a flute of champagne.

“Are you here with the bride or the groom?”

Sousuke stops and considers this. Then he shrugs and says, “the bride.”

“At a gay wedding.”

It’s a wonder the rest of his drink doesn’t go spewing out of his mouth at that. Instead, he swallows it, slowly, bitter and burning in his throat.

Rather than rat him out to the groom and, well, the other groom, the Best Man leans in, his nose tickling the shell of his ear, and whispers, “I won’t tell,” as he slips something into Sousuke’s pocket.

It’s not until the Best Man’s gone to join the rest of the wedding party that Sousuke checks his parting gift: a hotel room keycard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who the wedding is really for? =))


	3. SeiMako: Sleepy Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [themarvelousmarlin](themarvelousmarlin.tumblr.com) @ tumblr who requested—
> 
> SeiMako and sleepy kisses.

Makoto hates mornings.

They’re the end of pleasant dreams and warm sleep. The start of long days of carrying heavy hoses and getting smoke in his eyes and soot on his face. Of worrying if the next rung on the ladder will be the one that gives out beneath his bunker boots. Or worse.

Beside him, the mattress shifts, and the powerful body there turns onto his side. Seijuurou’s breath is warm on his skin as he presses a soft kiss into Makoto’s bare shoulder. “Five more minutes,” he croaks—a deep guttural sound that Makoto likes.

“You said that five minutes ago,” Makoto points out.

“Ten, then.”

“Mm. And you said _that_ ten minutes before that.”

Seijuurou slowly lifts his head, catlike eyes peering through red hair, wild and uncombed. “You keeping track?”

And because he can’t help himself even before the sun rises up over their sleepy coastal town, Makoto clucks his tongue and drags his big toe up over the defined line of Seijuurou’s calf beneath the covers. “Maybe.”

He hits the jackpot: Seijuurou jumps with a start, his eyes narrowing in challenge as Makoto tries his hardest to not burst into laughter. It’s not even six in the morning—their neighbors won’t appreciate it.

Seijuurou doesn’t seem to share that sentiment. With surprising strength, he flips them both over so that he’s on top and Makoto’s pinned beneath him, unable to do much else besides offering up a pitiable pair of sleepy doe-eyes.

They share a kiss. Nothing hard or sensual—just enough to ensure them both there’s more awaiting them at the end of their day.

“Five more minutes,” Seijuurou demands against his mouth.

Makoto loves mornings.


	4. SouMako, FF13 AU #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra), who requested —
> 
> SouMako Final Fantasy XIII AU three-sentence fic with paradigm roles, if possible.
> 
> (I enjoyed thinking about this, so I ended up writing two!)

It was only a matter of time before one of them would ask him why he bathed separately from everyone else in the inviting waters of the Sulyya Springs—he never expected it would be like this, with Sousuke all but cornering him, fingers grasping onto either side of his shirt to keep Makoto from pulling it back up over himself.

"Let me see your brand," Sousuke says, voice balanced between a calming purr and a demanding growl.

With no other options left, Makoto relents, lets the shirt slide off his shoulders and turns, exposing the l’Cie brand in between his shoulderblades—the black arrows that have multiplied significantly since the start of their journey, the nearly-opened red eye in its center—and murmurs, faintly, _please don’t tell Haru._


	5. SouMako, FF13 AU #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra). It was not requested, but Shiva bike was mentioned on twitter and I could not stop thinking about it. This one's a three-sentence fic, too.

"It’s cold," Makoto murmurs once he carefully crouches down onto the bike, settling comfortably as he could somewhere between the heads of two sisters—one light, one dark—whose intertwined legs make up the saddle.

"Don’t worry," Sousuke says, dropping down into the seat behind him, and reaching around him to grip at the handlebars—the action brings his broad chest up against Makoto’s back (and his brand feels like it’s burning), "they’ll warm up to you."

There’s a sudden surge of heat between Makoto’s legs, followed by a numbing chill that has him clutching the driver’s forearms before he realizes Sousuke hasn’t even revved up the engine yet.


	6. HaruRei: Fantasy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on tumblr, who requested HaruRei, and a Medieval/JRPG type of setting for the 3 sentence AU meme.

Rei is unfamiliar with the nuances of swordsmanship; he always considered it ugly and barbaric and nowhere near as effective as weaving magic on the battlefield. But sitting there on watch for their party’s camp, he’s spellbound by Haruka’s practice nearby—it’s like he’s dancing and his shadow is his partner and Rei, his sole audience, is captivated by the way he moves like a dragonfly rippling across still water, his steps and patterns smoother than silk.

He’s beautiful.


	7. MomoAi: Nightclub AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [KeiMaxwell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiMaxwell/pseuds/KeiMaxwell), who requested—
> 
> MomoAi, nightclub AU for the 3 sentence AU meme.

His first time in a club and Aiichirou Nitori already hates it—it’s crowded and dark, hands tend to wander and grope, the drinks are expensive and what’s worse: Rin left him to fend for himself.

 _Enjoy the Silence_ comes on and like magic, people flock to the dance floor in pairs while Ai thinks of using this moment to escape and listen to it on LP at home; instead, a cute redhead with eyes glowing gold in the strobe lights is dragging him by the wrist to the dance floor, only stopping to face him when they’re in the epicenter of it all, his front pressed up against Ai’s, his lips spread into a smirk.

All of a sudden, Ai thinks nightclubs aren’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Enjoy the Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0AKJMGxwpE) is a wonderful song.


	8. SouRin: Arabian AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on tumblr, who requested SouRin Arabian (Splash Free) AU, for the 3 sentence AU meme.

"…and the latest word from the muhtasib confirms the continuing turmoil between the guilds in Damascus are to blame for the raised tariffs on fabrics here and—" Sousuke stops when he realizes his words are falling on deaf ears then sighs, "—Sire, if the current state of affairs of His Majesty’s lands do not properly entertain him, perhaps I ought to continue them at a later time?"

The Sultan yawns and rolls over silk sheets onto his side, unabashed by his nudity, his chin propped up on his palm as he grumbles, “and why were you appointed Grand Vizier, again?”

Not bothered by that comment, Sousuke climbs onto the bed, straddling his king, the ghost of his smirk lit by a nearby oil lamp when he murmurs, “because I always make it worth His Majesty’s while.”


	9. MomoAi: Fantasy AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on tumblr who request MomoAi JRPG/Fantasy/Medieval AU for the three sentence meme.
> 
> This can go in the same universe as the HaruRei one from a few chapters back or solo!

"This is Pyunsuke," Momotarou introduces as he fondly smooths his gloved hands over the rough and glossy scales of his wyvern’s neck, "I caught him in the Valley when I was nine, all by myself!"

As friendly as the rider makes his mount seem, Ai insists on staying several yards away for his own safety because Pyunsuke is still a fire-breathing monster with sharp teeth and talons and he’s just a little bishop with a weak constitution.

Momotarou insists otherwise, latching firmly onto the sleeve of Ai’s robes as he leads him over to the overgrown lizard, cheerfully yelling, “c’mon, let’s take a ride!”


	10. SouMako Week Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was my entry for SouMako Week!—
> 
> It's for Day 4 (I think?), where the theme was "Families/Birthdays."

Sousuke hates hospital waiting rooms.

The complimentary coffee is thin and watery with a metallic taste. The chairs are an uncomfortable molded plastic that are barely large enough to house his body. And the eerie, distant beeps and footsteps on the squeaky floors do little to ease his nerves.

He’d sooner take twelve hours patrolling the beat in the worst part of town than to spend another hour in here.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Sousuke rubs at the corner of his tired eyes before glancing up. There stands Makoto, offering a steamy cup of something that smells slow-roasted and delicious—which means it’s likely not from the hospital cafeteria—and an equally warm smile.

“Am not,” Sousuke grouses, taking the cup and ignoring the other man’s amused chuckle. “I’m just tired. What time is it?”

“It’s a quarter til three,” Makoto murmurs as he lowers into the seat beside him.

A quarter til it marks the twelfth hour of this grueling wait. Sousuke sips his coffee. It’s strong, black and without sugar, just like how he prefers it; he wonders if it’s enough to get him by this ordeal.

“It’s been so long and they haven’t told us anything,” Makoto sighs, looking down the ominous, long hallway and the double-doors at its end. Several nurses working their rounds have passed back and forth the past few hours but so far, no new developments. “Do you think maybe something’s—?”

“Don’t start thinking like that,” Sousuke warns.

Makoto’s fidgeting, twisting the band around his ring finger. It’s always been a habit of his, he explained one day. It started with the wristwatch he wore in high school and progressed onto the ring Sousuke had given him years ago—it was his way of sinking back down to earth. “I know, I’m sorry. I just—I’m worried.”

“That’s normal. Here.” Setting the now-empty cup of coffee aside, Sousuke opens his arms, inviting him into his space. Makoto readily accepts, his large body curling up against him, his head in his lap.

“Thank you,” Makoto says, sleep hanging on to his every word.

Sousuke presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Think nothing of it. Just get some rest. I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

Makoto shuffles closer to him till he’s as comfortable as two grown men in a hospital waiting room can get. “So glad you’re here. Don’t know how I’d make it through this without you…”

Sousuke opens his mouth to insist _of course I’m here_ , but by then, Makoto’s already drifted off into sleep.

Not long after that, Sousuke thinks it’s more the other way around: he doesn’t know how he’d make it without him.

 

-

 

Some time after Makoto dozed off, Sousuke followed his example, his head tipped backwards and resting against the wall behind him. They remained frozen in that position until a brave nurse approached them and gently—very gently—nudged his shoulder, stirring them both awake.

“Mm..?” Sousuke is the first to gain his bearings. There’s a crick in his neck and the smell of old coffee around them, then he suddenly remembers where he is and why they’re there. He shoots the nurse a furtive glare. “What—what is it?”

The nurse gives him a weary smile. There are dark circles around her eyes and she’s given up the illusion of fixing her bun. Even so, there’s hope shining in her eyes and lighting her face as she looks them both over. “Everything went well,” she says.

Sousuke thought the good news would get him to stop shaking. It doesn’t.

He can hear Makoto breathing in and out with relief and anticipation as he stands up beside him. “Can we—?”

“They’re in recovery and resting. I’m afraid only immediate family can go see them at the moment.”

The nurse is only doing her job and reciting hospital policy, but Sousuke can’t help the way something hot flashes in his veins when she says _only immediate family_ and looks between him and Makoto, and asks the question he dreaded since they came in hours ago.

“Which one of you is the father?”

Sousuke licks his lips, opens his mouth and—

Makoto’s hand finds his, squeezing firmly once their fingers twine and their rings bump up against each other. “We both are,” he blurts.

There’s color in the nurse’s pale cheeks when she smiles again, this time wider than before.

“Congratulations, then,” she says, “it’s a girl.”


	11. SouMako: Mecha AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [isthistakenalready](isthistakenalready.tumblr.com) on tumblr who requested—
> 
> SouMako Mecha AU, for the 3 sentence AU meme on tumblr.

There’s a crack that looks like a spiderweb in the dead center of his window screen, blocking his view of the barren, war-torn landscape and the blackening skies above; the oxygen levels in the cabin are below fifty percent, steadily dropping by the minute; his lungs are burning and he thinks his arm’s broken—the limb he works the thrusters with.

"Unit Atlas," it’s Commander Sasabe, the bass of his voice crackling as it travels through a partly busted commlink, "you have orders to abandon your post and return to HQ immediately, Unit Hyperion is compromised—"

With his good arm, Makoto yanks the wires out of the communication panel, effectively killing the link with command, and with gritted teeth and a painful tug on his machine’s gear shift, he rights his unit up; if he remembers correctly, the blast knocked Sousuke’s unit several dozen yards to the east…


	12. SouHaru Week Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For SouHaru Week— 
> 
> For Day 2, the theme is: "Starting Over."

“Class, this is Yamazaki, our model for today.”

“…good afternoon.”

Haru’s head jerks up at the sound of the familiar, throaty bass, his kneaded eraser dropping from nerveless fingers. The tall, dark-haired man in the middle of the room in nothing but a drab robe being introduced is very much the last person he expects. For a moment, Haru’s convinced this is some sort of dream or that his art class is the new setting of some tasteless prank show.

Only it’s not.

Haru watches closely as Sousuke’s eyes scan the room with the same indifference he shows to everything and everyone but swimming and Rin, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line—his version of a polite smile. After a few moments during which Haru presumes he’s simply looking for someone in particular, Sousuke bows his head, just slightly, in greeting.

“Please make him feel welcome,” the professor announces cheerfully.

There’s a muted exchange between the model and the professor, presumably about poses and angles and times. Then the lights dim and Sousuke undoes the knot of his robe, letting the garment fall off his broad frame into a slick pool at his feet.

Several of the women sitting in the row behind Haru gasp. Haru, meanwhile, suddenly finds his sketch pad very interesting and flips to an empty page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be much longer and more encompassing. I kept bumping into walls so I just left it as this little ficlet here. The gist of it is…well, years after the end of _Eternal Summer_ , Haru and Sousuke meet up by chance and…yeah, cliche as fuck.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, SouHaru Week is ongoing! If you want to participate or if you're interested in the work produced by it (and there's some amazing stuff), check it out on [Tumblr](souharuweek.tumblr.com).


	13. MakoRin, Hollywood AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [sugarblaster](sugarblaster.tumblr.com), who requested (ages ago)—
> 
> MakoRin, Hollywood AU for the three sentence AU meme.

The lights flashing at the Dolby Theatre are blinding even from several city blocks away—Makoto gapes in awe at the spectacle from his kneeling position on the backseat of his stretch limo, _ooh_ ing and _ahh_ ing at every famous face he can recognize the closer he gets to the venue.

Beside him, Rin is less transfixed by all the glitz and glamor and more amused by his costar’s reactions, so he feels fit enough to tease him, “I know it’s the Oscars, but you’re acting like a kid in a candy store—it’s embarrassing.”

Makoto slumps back onto his seat and reaches a hand over to Rin’s thigh, squeezing as he says, “if you think this is bad, just wait until they announce the winner,” and winks.


	14. SouMako, High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [ghostbodied](ghostbodied.tumblr.com) on tumblr who requested—
> 
> SouMako, High School Popular Kid and Nerd AU. 
> 
> I also threw in a Persona 4 cameo!

Somehow, word got out that the two most popular boys in school—Rin Matsuoka and Sousuke Yamazaki—were going to choose Home Economics as their elective course for the year. It wasn’t set in stone or anything, and Rin had even expressed some doubt about it, but the news spread like wildfire anyway. Before the rumor could be proven or debunked, hormonal teenagers flocked to register for classes by the dozens, resulting in one very perplexed Home Economics teacher with an unexpectedly over-scheduled classroom. Some adjustments were made and as luck would have it, Rin was out and Sousuke was in.

So much for breezing by the easiest class with his best friend at his side…

Sousuke thinks about switching out for something like Wood Shop or Speech, but by then, it’s too late.

With a sigh, Sousuke slumps into a seat at one of the workstations in the back of the kitchen-like class and tries to simultaneously ignore the giggling from his enamored classmates. Projecting an aura of disinterest pays off and as much as the stragglers entering look like they want to sit with him, no one dares take the empty seat beside his.

Until it looks like one Ai Ebihara—a walking mean girl stereotype if he ever saw one, and with a reputation to match—can’t find a seat of her own.

Now, for as many love notes and chocolates and other assorted confessions he gets stuffed into his locker every day, Sousuke doesn’t care much for interacting with people outside his small circle of friends in the swim club. As long as they leave him alone and don’t get in the way of his success, they’re fine by him.

But Ai is Ai, and the whole school would have his phone number by the end of the week, or worse, if he’s not super careful around her. He doesn’t want to deal with that sort of headache. So, when she nears his table and doesn’t seem fazed by his _“kindly fuck the fuck off”_ scowl, he plants a hand against the back of the seat she’d been eying like a hawk since she walked in.

“Seat’s taken,” he grumbles.

Ai scoffs, shifts her weight to her left hip, and rises to the challenge. “I don’t see anyone in it.”

“That’s because they’re not here yet.”

“Is that so?” Ai drums a well-manicured fingertip on the surface of the table, almost taunting him. “Then who is it?”

He should’ve expected her to ask. Ai might be a lot of things but gullible isn’t one of them, so he can’t very well brush off her counter. With no other recourse and with time ticking by, he looks over her shoulder, sees someone, and just randomly gestures toward them.

“Him,” he says quickly.

Incredulous, Ai whips her head around to look over her shoulder at the offending third party. A tall, lost-looking boy with greenish brown (or brownish green) hair and the kindest eyes who is just as surprised as Ai is when Sousuke waves him over like an old friend and motions to the chair next to him.

He points to himself, mouthing _Me?_ , just as Ai nearly screeches a _Him?_

Sousuke nods and lets his defenses drop with a wide grin. “I thought you’d never show up, man. Saved you a seat and everything.”

Thankfully, Kind Eyes is a pretty decent actor and swiftly slides into the seat beside Sousuke, all sheepish smiles and self-deprecating laughs. “Sorry, got held up at my locker. You should have texted me!”

“I was held up too.” Unable to contain his smarmy grin, Sousuke looks directly at Ai. With the battle lost, Ai tosses her wavy hair over her shoulder and marches off to the other side of the room, nose held high.

When she’s gone, Kind Eyes lets out a breath—louder than Sousuke’s own—and Sousuke lets his smirk drop. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“S-Sure.”

Class begins, so they don’t talk after that, leaving everything to brief, analytical glances and, on one occasion, a silent request for a sheet of blank paper to jot down some notes. When Kind Eyes opens his notebook, there, written on the front cover in black marker—like a complete and utter nerd and loser—is the name _Makoto Tachibana._

Kind Eyes sounds better.


	15. Multiple: Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day: Chocolates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 different pairs, 3 sentences each. MakoRin, NagiAi, ReiGou, SouMomo, HaruNao. Please enjoy.

1.

Rin hates chocolate—it’s expensive, overtly sweet, fattening, and plain hell for his teeth.

But after spending the better part of a lazy afternoon melting a bar of it over the defined planes of Makoto’s chest and stomach, and watching, with rapt fascination, as the bits he doesn’t lap up harden and glisten in the sunlight…

It’s not so bad.

 

* * *

 

2.

He doesn’t know how he was led into this place so easily—maybe it’s just part of Nagisa’s charm or maybe Nagisa somehow knows how he always did want to wander back into the notorious Shop with No Windows that sold him _those_ books he has stashed in the recesses of his desk drawer.

He just knows he’s not ready—definitely not ready—for the moment when the blonde holds up a long chain of condom packets, so he squeaks out a barely audible, “ch-chocolate flavored?”

“Well,” Nagisa quips with a smirk, “it _is_ Valentine’s Day, Ai-chan.”

 

* * *

 

3.

Rei will never admit it out loud, but he absolutely loves it when Gou comes back from the cosmetics store with her lips shiny with gloss and ready for him. It’s not just because of the soft, pleased sound she makes when he captures her lips and licks his tongue over them and into her mouth.

It’s for the glint in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks as she smiles when he correctly guesses the flavor, “chocolate.”

 

* * *

 

4.

“Sorry about that, Yamazaki-senpai,” Momotarou mumbles, looking as devastated as a kicked puppy in the rain when it comes to light that the chocolates in the heart-shaped box he saved up for melted after spending the better part of a week hidden in his closet.

There’s still use for them, Sousuke believes, so he takes a seat on his chair and pats his lap, invitingly, for Momo to come sit.

“Don’t worry about it, now,” he scrapes out a glob of melted chocolate, about two fingers’ worth, and says, “open wide for me.”

 

* * *

 

5.

The setting is stark and not festive, plain white and sterile and, aside from an occasional ‘beep’ from the IV drip, _quiet_ —not the ideal setting for a ‘date’, but Haruka doesn’t mind; he actually kind of likes it.

The bed beside his chair rustles with movement as Nao sits up in it, manages to gracefully coil his spindly fingers around his plastic cup and brings it up to his lips for a careful sip—not a drop spilled—and hums, “oh, chocolate.”

Haruka feels heat spreading out over his cheeks and looks away—though he doesn’t need to, because Nao can’t see through the bandages—and mumbles, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”


	16. SeiMako: Fantasy AU (CW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Please note:** this piece contains blood, death, and melodrama.

Seijuurou always imagined his final moments in a less messy, more glamorous light: of old age and in the care of his loving family or on the battlefield, defending his homeland with honor and dignity.

Getting stabbed by some highwayman on the outskirts of Iwatobi while on a routine mission isn’t typically the glorious death knight captains like him longed for.

Even so, Seijuurou has no regrets. It’s actually kind of funny, in a morbidly ironic sort of way, because, in a sense, this is what he wanted when he gave his oath. But laughter hurts too much right now.

The taste and smell of copper is everywhere. His vision is glazing over, the bright shapes and colors of his life dimming. Yet, he can distinctly make out his green-eyed lancer at his side, trying to keep his trembling hands—drenched with blood and probably every vulnerary they had—steady over the gaping wound over Seijuurou’s abdomen.

Seijuurou blinks, the salt of his sweat—his tears?—stinging his eyes. “Where… are Uozumi and Minami?”

“They’ve gone to find the Bishop. Help is on the way.”

“And the bandit…?”

“He’s…dead.” The lancer looks dark for all of a moment, then shakes his head and says, “please don’t speak anymore, Captain. Save your strength.”

A smile touches the blood-stained corners of his mouth. “Looks like it’s just you and me then, huh?”

“Captain, _please_ —”

“—Makoto.” Seijuurou moves his hand from atop the lancer’s to the side of his face, weakly and without aim, streaking blood on the otherwise smooth and flawless skin. Gods, it’s everywhere. “Don’t bother.”

Makoto draws back, looking like _he’s_ been stabbed in the gut, eyes wide in shock and hurt with betrayal. “‘Don’t bother’?” he chokes, then lets out a broken-sounding sob that strums through the both of them. “How…can you just…? _No_. No, I _won’t_. Nitori isn’t that far, if he rides your brother’s wyvern then—”

“Pyunsuke isn’t _that_ fast,” says Seijuurou, his voice dipping low, the strain of it painful. “It’s going to be al—”

“No.” There’s another vulnerary bottle in Makoto’s hands and he’s shaking so much, _so much_ , he fumbles with it, drops it to the ground where it shatters and spills. Another sob cuts Makoto off, breath hiccuping from his crying, but he pushes on, quieter, but no less anguished, “it’s not—you can’t…you can’t leave me. It’s supposed to be _you and me_ , remember?”

For some reason, _that_ hurts Seijuurou far more than that rusty blade driving in through his flesh did. He doesn’t drop his smile, however, instead letting it remain. “Impressive, Makoto. You’ll make a good captain...”

Seijuurou can hear it in his own voice, how tired he is. And as his eyelids dip shut, he can feel the blood on his abdomen and face, almost burning against his skin one moment, and coldly numb the next. Makoto’s doubled over him now, muttering apologies against his chest in between racking sobs, distant and unclear, before he moves upward and presses his lips to Seijuurou’s.

“You’re still my captain,” he whispers against his mouth.

Their first, last, and only kiss tastes of salt and warmth. 

Seijuurou has no regrets.

  
-

  


_It’s a few weeks shy of Seijuurou’s seventeenth birthday when he’s assigned to his first station: a garrison far from the safety of Iwatobi proper. It’s not exciting work, and he’s stuck with a small group of about four others who would much prefer something else. He’s got seniority over them but like him, they are fresh out of the academy; they’re not yet dubbed and are thus given the worst tasks.  
_

_After long, muggy days spent cleaning and assorting stockpiles of heavy weaponry and mucking stables, Seijuurou leaps at the opportunity to escort some monks to a monastery some twelve miles away from the garrison. It’s going to be his very first mission—he’s not sure what to expect, but he’s excited._

_The only other volunteer is a boy not that much younger or shorter than him. He’s got brownish cowlicked hair and sleepy green eyes that won’t look his way except for quick, passing glances. He won’t speak up or out of turn. And when Seijuurou approaches him, he squeaks._

_He’s kind of cute._

_No, the young chambermaids that work at the nearby village inn are cute. The young daughter of the late Duke of Sano, with the wine-colored hair and eyes and fiery personality: she’s cute. This young man is something else entirely._

_This is going to be an unforgettable first mission._  


“ _You there.”_  


“ _Y-Yes?”_

_To show that he doesn’t mean to bully him, Seijuurou puts a friendly arm around the young man, noting the sturdy weight of his armor and imagining how the contours of his body must look after having to wear it for so long. “What is your name?” he asks as he leads him out the main gate._

_There’s a relieved sag in the young man’s broad shoulders. “Ah, Makoto,” he says, meekly. “Tachibana Makoto.”_  


“ _Well then, Makoto,” Seijuurou smiles at the taste of other boy’s name in his mouth, “looks like it’s just you and me.”_


	17. SouNagi: Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [ilanathepurple](http://ilanathepurple.tumblr.com) @ tumblr who requested—
> 
> SouGisa. "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"
> 
> There's also bonus RinRei.

Rin doesn’t notice _it_ right away. Either he's getting far more distracted lately, or Sousuke's taken extra steps to avoid detection for months after they’d finished high school and throughout the start of their swimming (and management) career. Lost in a whirlwind of trips around the world for meets and grueling workouts at home, Rin just isn't as quick on the uptake around his best friend as he used to be. But when things more or less slow down, he almost smacks himself for not making the realization _sooner._

Rin first learns about _it_ when he and Sousuke come to Gwangju for an international meet and have settled into their hotel room after the usual press conference and interview fluff. Sousuke’s gone off to fetch dinner so Rin takes the chance to go on a Skype date with Rei. 

Nothing unusual, really. Nagisa’s with him—he’s always with him—so the date doesn’t quite go as planned but it’s still very enjoyable and it’s not long before the three of them are chatting away about everything from Rei’s captaincy to Haru’s performance at the Japanese national championships to whether Rin can stuff Lee Taemin into his luggage and smuggle him into Japan.

“Not gonna happen,” Rin says with a low snort.

Nagisa’s face on the computer screen is a little less rounder now that he’s hit a bit of a growth spurt, so his evil, cutesy faces aren’t as effective as they used to be. “Aww, why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, _because it’s illegal_?”

“Rin-chan’s just being greedy,” Nagisa concludes as he inhales the heap of strawberry ice cream off his spoon with a sob so exaggerated and obviously fake, Rin can hear his own eyes rolling within their sockets.

Nevertheless, Rei takes center stage on the couch and tries to console him by offering up more dessert. It’s fairly effective and Nagisa looks less like a puppy caught out in the rain because of it.

And just as Rin’s about to scold his boyfriend for coddling that manipulative little shit, the hotel room door opens and in walks Sousuke with enough bulgogi takeout to feed the entire team and their plus-ones.

“I just pointed to everything that looked good on the menu,” he says, automatically setting the boxes down on the little table next to Rin, “although you shouldn’t eat this much before a—”

“Ah, it’s Sou-chan! Hi hi hi, Sou-chan!” Nagisa is thrilled to see him and, of course, isn’t shy about it. He waves and gestures wildly toward the webcam, damn near clocking Rei in the head. “It’s me!”

Sousuke stops, stunned, and stares at Rin’s computer screen, as if unsure Nagisa can even see him. Then he lifts his hand, presumably in greeting, except he keeps it still in mid-air and just there for so long, Rin elbows him for making things so painfully awkward. “The hell, Sousuke. You a Vulcan or something? Wave.”

And so Sousuke does wave. Just barely. Then he smiles. It’s not a wide, toothy grin, but it’s remarkable: a slight sparkle of life in his eyes, a loosening of his tight jaw, a quirk to his lips. “Yo...Nagisa.”

And while it’s not obvious in that exact moment, Rin does begin to suspect something’s quite...off. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Out the corner of his eye, he quietly watches as Sousuke sits down beside him—unusual, since Sousuke tends to make himself scarce whenever Rin Skypes with someone other than Gou.

Huh.

Nagisa’s practically bouncing on the couch now, any pouts and sobs long forgotten. “ _Wai!_ Sou-chan, how are you? Are you enjoying your trip? Do you think you can bring me a gift? I hear Lee Taemin might—”

In that exact moment, Rei pops back up onto the screen, reaching ahead towards his laptop’s mouse and blocking as much of Nagisa’s springy body as he can. “Ah, pardon me for interrupting, Sousuke-san,” he says in haste as he works the mouse and clicks away. “But it’s almost dinner time for us here. Please excuse us—we’ll be right back.”

Rei’s voice—no, Rei _period_ , cuts through whatever fog Sousuke had been blissfully lost in for the past few moments and Rin watches, almost captivated, as his best friend’s jaw hardens and his eyes go cold.

It’s like a flipped switch.

It’s not until Rei signs off Skype that Rin feels the need to say something about what he’s just witnessed. “The fuck was that, Sousuke?”

Sousuke sniffs like he does when he wakes prematurely from one of his adored naps and wrinkles his nose. “What was what?”

“That,” Rin gestures towards his computer screen, “what was that just now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sousuke mutters.

“Uh huh.” Rin stares, flatly and unconvinced, as Sousuke rifles through the takeout boxes he spread out on the table and looks between two containers of rice like he’s not even sure what they are. “You think I didn’t notice how you just shut down and went all _grr_ right there?”

Sousuke shrugs and starts to dig into his food, supposedly unconcerned, yet his eyes are practically boring holes through the cartons. “It’s not like it’s my business if they go to dinner together yet again.”

And there it is. The hasty and mumbly speech, the quickly averted gaze, the weak denial. Rin knows that routine like the back of his hand. Hell, he pretty much invented it.

“Wait a minute,” he says, the suddenness of his realization almost surreal, “are you jealous?”

There’s a sharp crack noise and it takes Rin a moment to realize it came from Sousuke’s chopsticks. Cleanly snapped in half in his fist.

That’s when Rin loses it, curling up into a ball onto his seat and howling with wild laughter. “Oh my god, Sousuke, you really are jealous! Holy shit!”

And after Sousuke mutters and stomps off and takes the kimchi with him like the petulant man-child he can be, Rin opens up Skype and starts typing up an urgent message.

`**Rin M**  
LMAO GOU – OMG guess who’s tall, grumpy, tsundere and has a thing for Nagisa?!?!`

Oh, this is going to be _good._


	18. MakoRin: Dialogue Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MakoRin. This piece, save for one brief line, is strictly dialogue. I wanted to experiment with something like this.

“Rin, this game...” 

“It’s no big deal. Being honest and open with each other is going to help.” 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“Sure I’m sure. Now, go, it’s your turn.” 

“Alright, then. Who was your shortest?” 

“Oh. That—it was...Nagisa.” 

“Really? Isn’t he taller than Nitori-kun?” 

“He isn’t. And I didn’t... Not with Nitori.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, so let’s proceed. Um—oh, here’s one. Who was your tallest?” 

“My tallest? It was Sousuke.” 

“Oh ho! When did _this_ happen?” 

“It was when you came back from Australia after the first year of university, and we went with him and Haru to Osaka. The night before we left, he and I…” 

“Ohh _hh_. So that’s why you were all grimacy and shifty during that train ride.” 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Hah! Don’t look like that, Makoto. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about—it’s Sousuke after all. He’s not subtle when it comes to that.” 

“I suppose you’re right. Do you want to keep playing this?” 

“Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do…and like I said, this helps, believe it or not.” 

“Can’t see how exactly, but I’ll take your word for it. Who was your youngest?” 

“…why’d you have to go and ask that one?” 

“You’re the one who said this honesty game helps our relationship, Rin.” 

“Fine, fine. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

“I mean it!” 

“I swear, I won’t tell a soul!” 

“…Momo.” 

“…oh.” 

“I see that look in your eye! You better not tell anyone!” 

“I won’t. I just—I think it’s cute.” 

“Cute? Makoto, I’m talking about _Momo_. As in Mikoshiba Momotarou, from Samezuka? That one.” 

“I know that, Rin. He’s adorable.” 

“Yeah, no. I’m just going to ignore that and ask you who was your oldest.” 

“The oldest? It was Smith. He was thirty-something.” 

“Smith? That’s it?” 

“I…um, well, we didn’t get to exchange a lot of info.” 

“Was he a gigolo?” 

“No! No, nothing like that at all! It was…during my first year in college. I was in Ni-choume with some friends and this blonde with thick eyebrows approached me. He was lost and needed directions…” 

“He asked _you_? But your English is terrible!” 

“I know that! But anyway, he spoke Japanese. I think he was a professor or something like that. He was gorgeous.” 

“Aww, Makoto, losing his virginity to a fo-reig-ne~r.” 

“He wasn’t my first.” 

“Huh?” 

“I lost my virginity before then. Way before, even.” 

“’Way before’? How long are we talking?” 

“Relax, Rin. I was teasing. It was during my third year of high school.” 

“Who?” 

“Huh?” 

“Who was it? Who was your first?” 

“Kisumi.” 

“Kisumi!? Shigino Kisumi?! _Ikemen_ pink-haired bimbo Kisumi?! That one?” 

“I don’t know of any others…and he’s not a bimbo!” 

“Like hell he isn’t! I can’t believe this!” 

“Why are you so upset?” 

“I’m not…upset! It’s just—I always thought it was Haru. But _him_? Really?” 

“Don’t be like that, Rin. There’s nothing wrong with Kisumi! And anyway, it’s not as if it was a one night stand or anything.” 

“What do you mean it wasn’t a one night stand? When the hell was this?” 

“I told you, during our third year. Or—wait, did you mean when we first did it or when we first began experimenting—” 

“Oh my god! You did it more than once?” 

“Well, there was a lot of stress that year, with exams and—” 

“So how many times did you do it?” 

“…that’s not important.” 

“That many times?!” 

“Rin, calm down! What’s even the issue here? I thought you wanted to play this game to help us be more open and honest with each other.” 

“I did, but…Kisumi?” 

“I did it with your best friend and that’s the one that’s bothering you?” 

“That’s because it’s different! Sousuke had asked me about you a couple of times and—” 

“Oh, so it’s okay for him, because he asked _you_ for permission.” 

“It’s not like that. He asked me about all of you guys on Iwatobi.” 

“...okay, so why are you upset about Kisumi being my first?” 

“I don’t know, okay? Lots of reasons. I guess the main one is that I didn’t see it coming…” 

“Is it always so obvious, though?” 

“It tends to be. But not always…” 

“Right. So then who was your first?” 

“Eh?” 

“Your first, Rin. Was it Sousuke?” 

“N-No, it wasn’t…” 

“Then…?” 

“…Mikoshiba.” 

“Oh, so Momotarou-kun was also your first? That’s...kind of cute, too.” 

“…no, not Momo. His brother. Seijuurou.” 

“ _Him_?” 

“Yeah. Him.” 

“I thought you couldn’t stand him! When was this?” 

“It’s complicated, okay? It kind of happened at prefecturals.” 

“You mean that night at the hotel? The night when we had the talk about my future in my hotel room? Where we could have had something if it wasn’t for Nagisa? _That night_?” 

“…like I said, it’s complicated.” 

“ _Ughhhh!_ ” 

“It wasn’t—wait, why is your face getting so— _oi_ , Makoto! Where are you going?!” 

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.” 

“What? Why? What did I do?!” 

“I can’t believe you got all huffy about the whole Kisumi thing when you’re guilty of something even worse! At least Kisumi and I were friends and had built up to it. You and Mikoshiba-san on the other hand had a meaningless little—” 

“Hey now. He’s a very respectable guy and he was my captain and he had passed that down to me. It wasn’t some whimsical thing to lose my virginity to him!” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, really.” 

“Then when is his birthday, Rin?” 

“Eh? What?” 

“Mikoshiba-san’s birthday. When is it?” 

“...that’s not important.” 

“Exactly what I meant. Good night, Rin.” 

“Oh, come on! You can’t compare the two! It’s not even—hey, wait a minute, Makoto, come back! I didn’t—!” 

The door slams. 

“Fuck this game!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. There's no specific or official name to the sex superlatives game they're playing. It's never a good idea for couples to play it, though. These things tend to happen.


	19. SouGou, "Flower Shop" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra). For her Get Hate, Get Laid campaign.

` **HELP WANTED** `

`Part-time Florist`  
`No experience necessary. Must be willing to take direction & be very flexible`  
`Walk-ins welcome!`  
`Please ask for Gou Matsuoka.`

-

“So…”

Cramped broom closets aren’t exactly the best places to hold job interviews; nor are they the most private of locations for a young man and his would-be supervisor— _especially_  during the bustling mid-afternoon shift, when dutiful florists are  _supposed_ to be bundling up roses for husbands returning to their wives and spritzing water onto some freshly bloomed irises, or whatever the else the job description entails.

But they are handy in a pinch.

What possessed him to respond to that want ad on the community bulletin board, he's not sure. That his best friend’s sister was the assistant manager made it less of a problem; that she had grown— _really_ grown, in a way his body approved of—was nice, too; and that she had smiled and seemed very happy to see his name at the top of the application was a nice bonus.

And for whatever reason, she flirted with him during the interview, told him _it’s been years Sousuke-kun_ and that he looks _big_ and, well, Sousuke always did wonder if she harbored some kind of crush on him.

She does.

There’s quite the grin spread out over his mouth after he ducks out from beneath the folds of her skirt and stands upright before her, cool as a cucumber despite his being a little disheveled. One of the other part-timers passes by right outside the closet, completely unaware that just moments prior, Sousuke was knelt before the shop manager with her leg hooked over his shoulder and his face between her thighs.

Sousuke leans in until he’s as close to her as he was moments earlier, just prior to him winking and ducking down into a crouch, and murmurs, “am I hired?”

With a deep sigh, Gou pushes her bangs back from her glowy forehead and giggles. “Mm. I’m not completely sure if you’re qualified for the job yet,” she hums, “so I think I’ll have to reschedule your, ah, _interview_ for a later time _,_  Yamazaki-san.”

Amused, Sousuke smirks and runs his tongue over his lower lip. God, he can still taste her. “Oh? For what date and time?”

“Thirty minutes, in the break-room.”

Maybe it’s too early to tell but Sousuke’s pretty sure he’s going to love this job.


	20. SouHaru: Microfics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are Microfics. Pretty self-explanatory. Those of you that were in the Final Fantasy fandom ages ago might remember them. Enjoy!

1\.    **Angst**  
Sousuke knows it’s a sham for the cameras—just a part of being a professional athlete and national celebrity and  _it doesn’t mean anything_ —but he can’t help the clench in his chest when the pretty AKB48 alum puts her arm around Haru’s waist as they both put on smiles for the viewers watching at home. He lasts all of half a minute before he angrily powers off his television.

* * *

 

2\.    **AU**  
Yamazaki from Samezuka pulls up in front of the Iwatobi campus on a motorcycle one day. Why, is anyone’s guess. There’s a small crowd gathered by it, oohing and ahhing at its shiny chrome and leather, at the seductive purr of its engine as it idles, and at its rider, decked out in worn jeans and a military-style jacket.

Because leather would be too typical, probably.

Haru rolls his eyes. Sometimes he wonders why Yamazaki doesn’t just come out and say what he wants already. Pussyfooting is so troublesome.

“What kind of bike is it?” one of the onlookers asks, admiration making her voice breathy.

Haru’s jaw clenches in annoyance and he mutters before he can stop himself, “It’s a Kawasaki Z1.” He can’t tell what year the model is, only knows it’s sleek and, judging from the grease stains on Yamazaki’s white shirt, recently restored. 

Yamazaki’s eyebrow arches. Impressed or challenging, who can say. “That’s right. With a transverse four cylinder engine. It’s fast, too.”

In spite of the tension and his earlier exasperation, Haru feels the pull of a smirk on his mouth. “I like it fast.”

Then the tension snaps, and Yamazaki’s straddling the bike, scooting up on the seat. “Hop on.”

 

* * *

 

 

3.  **Crack**

The last thing Sousuke expected to see upon opening the bathroom door is also, ironically, what he’d always wondered about Haru since he met him. It’s always been a kind of joke, though—never once did he truly believe that Haru was a goddamn merman.

Yet, there he is.

Haru looks calm as can be, his bared upper torso partially submerged in the bathwater while his tail—bright and scaly, the color of seafoam—remains draped over the edge of the tub like a gown over a chair.

“If you’re going to just stand there, Yamazaki,” he drawls, dumping a container of salt into the water, his fluke flickering happily to the added stimuli, “then close the door—you’re letting all the cold air in.”

 

* * *

 

4.  **Crossover**  
If Sousuke hadn’t intercepted the thrown volleyball with his hand, it could have very well clobbered Haru right in the head.

The culprit, a short and very apologetic looking boy with hair the color of the sun at dawn, comes bouncing up to them to retrieve the ball. He trembles beneath Sousuke’s glare. “S-s-sorry about that,” he manages, “I thought you were…my…um, s-someone else!”

 

* * *

 

5.  **First Time**  
Team Japan won its first ever World Championship gold in the 4x100 medley relay. Of course, there are celebrations to be had but once the closing ceremonies are over, Haru heads straight to Sousuke’s hotel room.

 

* * *

 

6.  **Fluff**  
Sousuke is in dire need of a haircut.

Haru notices this as he stands beside him at the kitchen sink. Haru is on dry-duty tonight, and as he waits for Sousuke to hand over the next plate for him to wipe, he stares at the taller man’s profile, noticing the way his black fringe hangs in his eyes with the longest strips sticking to the strong bridge of his nose.

Between scrubs, Sousuke swipes at the offending tendrils with the back of a soapy hand, only for them to return a breath later. It’s obviously bothering him. So Haru, quiet and without warning, reaches up and combs the hair back for him with delicate fingers.

 

* * *

 

7.  **Humor**  
Haru steadies the camera onto the mini-tripod, making sure the lens isn’t obscured by the clothes in the laundry basket he hides it in. With the tiniest of smiles, he hurries out of the bathroom.

Just in time, too, as Sousuke exits the shower in the next moment and proceeds as usual to the vanity to comb his hair.

Haru watches with bated breath through a crack in the door as Sousuke picks up the blow dryer and turns it on. A large cloud of white flour shoots out from the vents and all over Sousuke’s hair and face.

“ _Haru_!”

And that’s Haru’s cue to take off like a bat out of hell. His only regret is that in doing so, he can’t witness the moment when Sousuke will eventually run into the sticky plastic wrap he’d placed across the door frame.

Well, not in person, anyway. The camera will capture the rest.

 

* * *

 

8.  **Hurt/Comfort**  
The nurse offers Haru a sympathetic look as she leaves the room, allowing him to enter. Inside, Sousuke’s laid up in the bed, hooked to an IV, his right shoulder covered with gauze bandages and medical tape. Same as he’s been for the past few visits.

“Hey.”

Sousuke says nothing, though the glassy look in his eyes fades into something lighter and softer when he turns his head to regard his visitor.

Haru sets a white plastic bag down, taking out from within some cartons and napkins and chopsticks and arranging them neatly on Sousuke’s overbed table. “Only chicken today, no pork.”

Sousuke grunts, disapproving.

“Don’t be such a baby. Here,” Haru captures a piece of breaded cutlet with chopsticks, blows softly on it to cool it off, then holds it up to Sousuke’s mouth, “ _ah~n_.”

Sousuke grunts again, louder than before, but he obliges anyway. He always does.

 

* * *

 

9.  **Smut**

Nude, Haru slides to his knees, taking Sousuke’s left foot in his hands. Thoroughly and with great care he washes it, letting the precious water drip over it first then massaging the oil into the sole before reverently kissing the arch, his lips trailing up to worship each toe.

Sousuke looks passive but he visibly squirms in his seat on the bed, the heel of his palm rubbing between his thighs and the other pulling tight at the sheets. Relentless, Haru pursues his task to the other foot, making the other man dissolve into low hisses and groans with just a few slides of his tongue, until Sousuke can’t stand it anymore and makes him come up.   
  
There, with Haru’s hands braced against the mattress, he moves his own feet, toes dancing along Sousuke’s heavy erection, catching its warmth between his soles and rubbing in long, slow strokes. Panting and trembling, they ride it out, together.

 

* * *

 

10.  **UST**  
It figures that the one day Makoto  _doesn’t_  knock is also the day Sousuke pins Haru against yet another vertical surface. Albeit for completely different reasons this time around.

He does, however, call out for Haru, which gives them just enough time to separate and readjust their clothes.

“Is everything o—”

“ _We’re fine_.”

“—kay.”


	21. KisuMako: Microfics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra), who requested them via tumblr. 
> 
> Same as the SouHaru ones, except these are for KisuMako!

1.  **Angst**  
The bouquet of roses are a bit much, Kisumi's willing to admit that, but he figures if he’s going to confess, he might as well go all the way and not pull any punches. It’s got to be perfect.

He rounds the corner to the stairs that lead up to the Tachibana residence. If he remembers correctly, the house is just to the right after the first landing.

He’s barely started when soft murmurs from above stop him. Standing there by the toori at the apex is Makoto. With Haru. 

And barely an inch of space between them.

Kisumi never gets higher than the second step before he turns and leaves, the bouquet crushed within his hands.

* * *

 

2.  **AU  
** Style Five is making an appearance on the same variety program as Kisumi and a couple of other idols. And lucky him, he gets to sit next to Makoto—tall and impossibly cute sleepy-eyed Makoto—on the discussion and Q&A panels.

The question,  _what is your ideal type of woman?_  falls onto Makoto and he fidgets uncomfortably in spite of his frozen smile and adorable stammering. It’s part of his character and the girls in the audience fall for it, giggling when he fumbles his answer.

Kisumi then decides it’s as good a time as any to crank up the fanservice and casually perches his chin on Makoto’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes up at him. “You mean _I’m_ not your type?”

Makoto blushes and tries to hide behind his hands. The rest of the panel erupts into scandalized laughter. The girls scream and squeal.

And Kisumi falls deeper in love.

* * *

3.  **Crack  
** “Good morning, class! I’m Shigino Kisumi, your substitute teacher for th—ohh! Makoto! Hey, Makoto!”

* * *

4.  **Crossover  
** The studio, to put it mildly, is  _huge_. It takes Makoto nearly an hour to find the right dressing room, having found it only because a PA was kind enough to acknowledge his existence amid the throng of models and designers and staff hard at work at putting together a fashion show.

Kisumi finds him at the doorway to the dressing area and drags him in, much to Makoto’s immediate surprise. His once-curly hair is flat-ironed and his eyes are smoky and rimmed with dark makeup. Yet, somehow, he’s still every bit bright and bubbly and  _Kisumi_. 

“I’m so glad you could make it, Makoto! C’mere, I want you to meet my friend!”

Kisumi’s friend is seated at a mirror, casually perusing through a tabloid as two stylists work on his canary-yellow hair. He looks up at their approach and his long and thick lashes fan out as wide as his smile. “Oh, this must be the famous Tachibanacchi!” **  
**

* * *

5.  **First Time**  
They’ve done this before, though things were different then. For starters, Kisumi hadn’t been the one with his legs spread and his knees drawn up; nor was he a ball of nerves gone haywire as he waited, and breathed and  _waited_ …

* * *

 

6.  **Fluff  
** The walk home from the beach is pleasant and quiet, the perfect ending to a day spent swimming and laughing and enjoying the warmth of the sun and each other’s company. Makoto’s on the right, Kisumi’s on the left, and little Hayato is between them both, holding their hands. **  
**

* * *

7.  **Humor  
** It’s still dark out when he’s roused from sleep. Their son’s wail reaches them from the next room over without need for the state-of-the-art baby monitor Rin bought them.

Kisumi nudges his husband, who makes a drawn-out noise of displeasure.  
  
“He’s your son too,  _you_  go rock him,” Makoto mutters, turning over.

* * *

 

8.  **Hurt/Comfort**  
Kisumi doesn’t say anything when Makoto randomly shows up at the Shigino family doorstep, his eyes bloodshot and wet, voice haggard and cracked; he doesn’t ask why he’s not out enjoying the Bon festival with the rest of his team.

He just widens the door and lets him inside.

* * *

 

9.  **Smut**  
Somehow, in the haze of his pleasure and exertion, Kisumi thinks it can’t be comfortable like this for Makoto. The other boy is half propped-up against the wall and practically upside down with his knees touching his shoulders, body rocking from the relentless pressure of Kisumi’s thrusts.

A sweet, ragged moan escapes him, and all of a sudden, all Kisumi can think of is how thankful he is that Makoto is  _so_  flexible.

* * *

 

10.  **UST  
** “I’m so sorry,” Makoto sputters for what Kisumi thinks is the millionth time. “I really didn’t know you were there! I thought Sousuke was!”

“It’s okay,” Kisumi murmurs with a sigh, wringing out his soaked sweater. “Shoulda known he’d use me as a shield. He can be sneaky like that some—eh?”

Their eyes meet then, and he realizes how close Makoto is to him, and how wonderful the proximity is. It helps him realize other things about Makoto, like how his lips are moist despite his heavy breaths and just how his long his eyes linger on the drenched areas of Kisumi’s shirt.

Makoto blinks and sputters again, gathering up his water gun. “S-Sorry! I, um, I should go…!”

“Wait, Makoto, where—”

But by then, Makoto’s gone, off to who knows where on the Samezuka campus.

Kisumi sighs. Maybe Rin knows...


	22. MakoRin: Tourist and Local AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous, who requested MakoRin "Tourist and Local" AU from a giant list of AUs on tumblr!

Less than four years living in Los Angeles and Rin still hasn’t gotten used to the ins and outs of it. The freeway traffic, the horrendous public transport system—which has made him now an official bike-rider, whether he likes it or not—and, of course, the tourists.

They’re pretty easy to spot and avoid, thankfully. His apartment is in an area of town that’s generally avoided by them in favor of places like Hollywood and Universal Studios, but on a few rare occasions, he’s spotted some adventurous wanderers here and there. He’s learned to dodge them.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to help. But there are times he does have somewhere he needs to be. Other times, he doesn’t want to be hassled by someone speaking to him loud and slow, like he doesn’t know English or basic communication 101.

Once in a while, though, he can’t avoid them no matter how hard he tries.

Case in point: that poor lost thing standing on the corner of Beverly and North Vermont.

He’s every bit a tourist: a backpack, a map folded out in his hands, a guidebook stuffed into the back pocket of his pants that brings to attention quite the nice ass, holy shit.

 _No, I can’t do this_ , Rin tells himself. He’s got to get to Doctor Kim’s office then it’s to the pharmacy and then back to his place so he can rest before evening practice.

Of course the light turns red at the intersection at that exact moment, leaving Rin and his bike there waiting for the flurry of vehicles to finish racing by. Right next to the tourist.

And it’s at the exact moment the tourist speaks to him. “Excuse me. Do…you…speak…English?” The tourist speaks in such bad English, Rin wonders why he’s even asking in the first place. He barely made out what he just said.

Which is okay, because on top of having a great ass, he’s also gorgeous when face-to-face. Suntanned from the unforgiving California sun, green-eyed, tall and broad, and just the right amount of adorable, too. Shouldn’t he be at a casting call somewhere in Hollywood? Maybe that’s where he meant to go and he just got lost and now some studio is going to miss its chance on the next big thing—

Rin’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the tourist flipping through another one of his many guidebooks. Japanese text on the cover. “Ah… Hanguk…mal…hasil ju—”

God, his Korean is worse than his English.

“I speak Japanese,” Rin offers and the relieved smile the tourist gives him is well worth the tongue-lashing Doctor Kim’s gonna give him for being late.

“Oh? Really? Thank goodness. I’m so sorry to bug you like this but I’m having trouble finding the nearest McDonald’s on this map,” and he shows him the map in question, a cheap thing they give you at hotel concierges, “and I was wondering if you can point me in the right direction? If you have time?”

The guy has traveled thousands of miles to one of the largest and most diverse cities in the world and he’s going to eat McDonald’s? Rin almost feels offended. But he’s mostly impressed by the tourist’s build. As Rin nudges closer beside him to glance at the useless map, he can’t help noticing how his shirt stretches snugly over his chest and shows off the definition there. He definitely works out.

God bless lost tourists.

Still, McDonald’s though?

“Oh, you don’t want to go there,” Rin suggests.

The tourist tilts his head and he blinks curiously. He’s too damn cute for his own damn good. “I don’t?”

“No,” Rin turns toward the east. “There’s a Jollibee right over there, and they have the best Halo-Halo ever.”

“Halo-Halo?”

“Trust me, it’s good,” Rin insists. It’s a hit with the locals and even he himself likes it, despite his dislike of sweets. “And since it’s close to the bus stop, you’ll have an easier time getting around.”

“Oh,” the tourist smiles, and when he does, it’s like his eyes do it too. It’s weird yet comforting at the same time. “That’s a good idea. I’ll check out this Jollibee place, then. Thank you very much and, again, I’m sorry for bothering you like this.”

“No problem,” says Rin, trying to ignore the way his heart’s picked up the pace when he receives yet another one of those eye-smiles.

The light’s changed to green, the perfect chance for him to bid this tourist happy travels and go about his way.

Instead, he stops, bites his lip, his grip tightening on the bike's handlebars. “Or, you know…”

Thankfully, the tourist had to stop and stuff his map back into his backpack so he’s still gracing Rin with his presence, fleeting as it might be. “Hm?”

“The heart of Koreatown’s not far from here,” Rin begins, trying not to stammer. Focusing on that orca keychain dangling from the zipper of the tourist’s backpack helps. “So, um…if you’re really hungry…I can take you to get really good barbecue.”

That sounds like the better option to the tourist because his face is lighting up like Christmas. “Really? You don’t mind at all?”

“Nah, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh my god, I’m so lucky, thank you!” The tourist takes Rin’s hand with both of his own, grateful and happy. His hands are big, Rin can’t help noticing. And he knows what _that_ means—

“But what about the Halo-Halo?”

Rin blinks. “Huh?”

“You said the Jollibee place has Halo-Halo and it’s real good…?”

Oh, he did say that, didn’t he?

“I’m—ah, yeah, you should check it out while you’re in town,” he mumbles quickly. Awkward as fuck and they haven’t even exchanged names. This must be some kinda record.

The tourist doesn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, his smile goes softer and warmer. “Then, allow me to buy you one later, when we’re done at the barbecue place? If that’s okay?”

Stunned, Rin can only nod, stiffly.

Doctor Kim is going to kill him for missing his appointment, sure, but it’ll be so worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jollibee!


	23. MakoRin Week Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For MakoRin Week—
> 
> For Day 5, "Different Sport."

The bell rings and, somehow, in spite of the shrill noise still in his ears and the salt in his eyes--a mix of sweat and tears--he makes it to his corner and collapses onto the stool. He doesn’t know his left from his right at the moment, let alone where the stool came from or who put it there.

Suddenly, there’s a crowd of three surrounding him in his safe little corner. Sousuke’s in front of him, making sure his arms are on his lap and not draped over the ropes; he’s telling him something, strategies on how to avoid his opponent’s devastating hooks and  _ I told you to stay the  _ fuck  _ off the goddamn ropes, Rin _ , and coaxing the mouthpiece out from his sore mouth so that Nitori can lean in and guide the straw of a water bottle into it. Rin swallows half of it, swishes the rest of it in his mouth, then spits a mix of the water and his own blood into the bucket.

Rin still can’t hear anything. The crowd’s screaming, the ref’s giving them their thirty-second warning, Sousuke’s still barking orders and fixing up his glove tape… But nothing’s registering.

Then there’s the feather-light pressure of fingers covered with latex on his brow, near his temple. Makoto works smoothly and quickly, dabbing the thick end of one cotton swab soaked in coagulants and the other in adrenaline hydrochloride over the cut there.

“Rin. Can you hear me?”

And suddenly, noise rushes in. Crystal clear. It’s sobering.

Rin nods, his breaths threatening to break through the control tempered from years of running with his dad and, later on, Sousuke. It’s end of the twelfth round--he has two left. He doesn’t care if he wins or not, he just has two left.

He just doesn’t know if he can make it.

“Rin,” Makoto murmurs, swiping a glob of petroleum jelly over his cheek, “I’m supposed to tell you to stop, because I’m scared to death right now…”

Nitori’s flashing a tiny light into his left eye when he doesn’t respond right away. Rin blinks, nudges him away.

“But.” Makoto rises when Sousuke does, climbs over the ropes. The usual concern flickers in his eyes and Rin thinks as long as he continues fighting for a living, it’ll never truly fade. But there’s admiration swirling in there as well. And something else, too. Something Rin has only seen glimpses of a few times, usually in their hotel rooms or back in their gym, after everyone’s gone home for the evening and Makoto insists going over Rin’s combos one more time…

“...you’re going the distance, Rin, like you’ve always wanted to,” Makoto says, “just like your father, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Emotion wells up in Rin’s chest and in his eyes. Tears cloud his vision yet he nods at the blurred image of Makoto smiling at him and rises.

Sousuke grumbles something about getting a room before stuffing Rin’s mouthpiece in. Rin can’t say what he really wants, but he doesn’t need to. Not when he nudges his sweat-soaked forehead against Makoto’s and kisses him on the mouth, wet and sloppy.

The bell rings. The corner- and cut-man scramble out of the ring. Prepared, Rin pounds his gloves together and steps forward, his mind clear, his heart light.

He feels like he’s already won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little piece of a Boxing AU I wanted to try. So, basically, Rin is an aspiring light middleweight boxer who's following his late father's footsteps. Sousuke, his best friend and a former boxer himself who gave up the sport due to injuries, is now his hard-ass trainer and cornerman. Nitori is an apprentice and helps Rin as a sparring partner and timekeeper, as well as helping Sousuke with cornerman duties. Makoto is a former journeyman who became Rin's cutman to keep an eye on him.
> 
> It was gonna be an OT3 thing but things happened.
> 
>  ***Update* 1/20/2015*** : The amazing Rolic drew some _lovely_ fanart of this [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CZJMSZcWAAAPAMs.jpg:large). Her tumblr is [here](http://naturalvirtue.tumblr.com). Please support her!


	24. SouHaru: Tumblr Prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous on Tumblr. This was for the "give me a starter sentence and I'll give you around 5 sentences in return" meme. They requested: 
> 
> "Sousuke stared at Haru unblinkingly, thinking how he had fallen for an absolute fucking psychopath."
> 
> Please enjoy. =))

“What?” Haru groused, holding Sousuke’s thick jacket tighter over his lithe frame as he stepped away from the police box.

Sousuke blinked out of his reverie, reminded himself that Haru’s antics–while insane and cute, in a strange sort of way–had also cost him his entire afternoon, and followed after him, muttering, “your court date is in two weeks.”

“I heard him,” Haru muttered, annoyance evident in his voice–as if he’d been the one inconvenienced by getting arrested.

He probably believed that.

Sousuke fell into step beside him and tried his hardest to not bring his arm up over his shoulders–he was supposed to be upset with him, dammit, not feeling protective–and instead sneered, “so try not to strip anywhere but in the bedroom, yeah?”


	25. SouHaru: FFX AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous on Tumblr, who requested some SouHaru based around a sentence-prompt. "I will aways be there to protect you." I went ahead and made it a Final Fantasy X AU, too. Oops. Please enjoy.

Sousuke’s hulking figure outside of his inn suite like some kind of golem is the last thing Haru expects to see. It’s normally— _ always _ —Makoto dutifully standing guard there, but with the exhaustion from traveling two days non-stop through an endless storm…

Well, even worrywart Guardians like Makoto need their rest, he supposes.

Still, it’s kind of annoying not having him here as some sort of buffer. Makoto would at least attempt to say something to cut through the stifling silence and tension. Small talk. A little conversation starter. _ I wonder what makes the Thunder Plains the Thunder Plains? _

Anything.

“Where are you going?” Sousuke asks. His tone is rather soft, which throws Haru further down the path of confusion. Haru’s certain if he’d sounded disinterested or even accusatory things wouldn’t seem so…off.

Then again, they’ve been off since Guadosalam.

“Nowhere,” he replies, automatically, looking out the nearest window when a streak of lightning zips past. Loud thunder cracks seconds later. Downstairs, Nagisa squeaks even louder.

“Then why aren’t you inside of your room?” Sousuke presses on. He’s so imposing, it’s almost suffocating, nothing at all like Makoto despite their similar statures.

Haru huffs out an annoyed breath and shoots him a look over his shoulder. “Why is that so important to you?”

Sousuke pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against. Somehow, he seems even bigger this way. “Because it’s my duty as your Guardian,” he says.

Haru knows there are things he shouldn’t say—least of which things that aren’t grounded on fact. But then, he saw what happened back on the stairway to the Farplane. Clear as day, with his own two eyes. Which is why he can’t bite his tongue hard enough to stop himself from turning around to face Sousuke and responding with, “Is it also your duty to keep things from your Summoner?”

He thought he’d regret it if he revealed his suspicions. Now, he can’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so relieved. 

Sousuke doesn’t say anything right away. His jaw remains as tight as the rest of his body, teeth gnashed together behind his pursed lips, knuckles almost popping from the pressure of his balled fist.

Then, with the first natural breath Haru has ever seen him exhale, Sousuke relaxes, his hand uncurling, his broad shoulders sagging. He looks relieved, too. “Not a word of it to Rin,” he murmurs after a while.

Haru nods. If Rin knew, it could mean the end of their Pilgrimage. 

“But despite… _ that _ , I meant what I said, you know,” Sousuke murmurs after too much time passes without a sound between them. They’re still standing in the hallway outside of the room. Their newfound comfort and understanding keeps it from being too awkward.

Haru’s brow furrows. For some reason, his expression makes the corners of Sousuke’s mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly. “I’m your Guardian, Haru. Unsent or not, I will always be there to protect you,” he says with a voice that’s barely above a whisper. 

Haru heard him just fine over the storm raging outside. He almost wishes that he didn’t. Feeling the heat rise up from somewhere in his chest over his neck and cheeks, he opens the door to his room and rushes in, promptly shutting the door behind him.

His back against the door, he sighs and tries not to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sousuke is Unsent. Yes, Nagisa is Al-Bhed. No, Makoto is not a Ronso. :P


	26. SouHaru: Mercenary/Special OPS AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous on Tumblr who asked for SouHaru and, "this is hard enough without you doing that." Please enjoy!

After Sousuke misses the center target for the third time, he drops all pretenses and just glares over at Haru who is seated on a bench nearby and enjoying his lunch. _Supposedly_.

“This is hard enough without you doing that,” Sousuke hisses over the clatter of an empty clip hitting the ground. He slams a new magazine—with rubber bullets, of course, since they’re just training—into the rifle, shoulders it, then realigns the sight.

Meanwhile, Haru has stopped licking the salt off his fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, throwing the crumpled bag of chips over his shoulder.

 _Of course you don’t_ , a voice mutters in Sousuke’s brain. Rather than give Haru the satisfaction of an audible response, Sousuke refocuses his attention on his target. 

A bulls’ eye will gain him fifty points, which will put him exactly one point ahead of the company’s current record. His finger is steady as it hovers over the trigger. He breathes in…

…and just as he pulls on it, he spots Haru damn-near swallowing a freshly peeled banana whole.

Sousuke misses the target completely.

So much for that company record.


End file.
